


Dog Day Afternoon

by jenny_of_oldstones



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_of_oldstones/pseuds/jenny_of_oldstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke asks Fenris to help him with a dangerous task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Day Afternoon

“You wish me to give your dog a ba-"

“Shhhh.” Hawke froze in the middle of the courtyard, the two buckets in his hands sloshing. “That beast can hear the b-word half the Free Marches away.”

Fenris glanced back at the curtained darkness of the estate. The mabari was curiously absent from its place by the fire.

“This was not what I was expecting, Hawke.” It was difficult to keep the irritation out of his voice. He had returned from a mercenary assignment that morning and wanted nothing more than to drink his aches away. Part of him had hoped, when he returned to find a note pinned to his door, that Hawke might help with said aches….not ask him to pick fleas from his overfed hound.

“Please, love.” Hawke poured the buckets into a copper basin set in the far corner of the courtyard where, Fenris suspected, any splashing would not get inside the house. “You. Have. No. Idea.”

Fenris sighed. This sort of menial maintenance of Garrett's daily life tended to fall to him when the servants were out. "What would you have me do?"

Hawke set the buckets down and stepped closer. In place of his velvet finery he wore a ratty shirt and a pair torn trousers Fenris vaguely recognized from a Low Town midden heap. "Here's the plan. I call for him, and when he comes running into the courtyard, you slam the door behind him."

Hawke's whisper sent a shiver through Fenris' entire body. "That is all?"

"That's all."

Hawke raised a hand to clap him on the shoulder, then lowered it. Fenris felt a pang at the same time a rush of gratitude that his lover remembered his dislike for casual contact. Hawke was not a touchy man himself, but he was warm with his friends, and it was easy to forget sometimes in their relationship that there were still walls between them.

Hawke squatted next to the tub, ready. Fenris relaxed into the corner between the manor and courtyard wall and folded his arms.

“Barnabas!” Hawke whistled. “Barney!”

The windows rattled. Fenris felt the mabari thunder through the house before he saw him. Barnabas slipped and skidded through the foyer and cleared the door like a stampeding bull, tongue slapping his own stupid face as he barreled toward his master. Fenris almost felt sorry as he pushed shut the door with a finger.

Almost.

Barnabas spun at the click of the latch. For a moment everything went still.

Fenris had suffered some horrific wailing in his life. He had witnessed slaves being tortured, indulged men’s blubbering before he ripped their still beating hearts from their chests, woke screaming from the memory of raw lyrium being pressed under his skin.

None of them compared to Barnabas the mabari’s bath time cry.

“Your neighbors must adore you.” Fenris plugged his ears.

“Quit your bawling!” Hawke slapped the side of the tub. “This will go easier if you don’t fuss.”

Barnabas threw back his head and howled.

Hawke leapt to his feet. Instantly the hound crouched and began dodging back and forth. Hawke lowered himself into a wrestler's stance, huge hands spread and teeth bared. The man was so hairy he could have passed for a mabari himself.

“Cry cry cry, it won’t do you any _good_ —!” Barnabas sprang at the exact moment Hawke leaned and squeezed his arms around the dog's waist, their combined momentum hurling them to the ground. Man and beast rolled over and over in a snarling heap, until Hawke sank his teeth into the mabari’s snout and forced him down.

 _He kisses me with that mouth._ Fenris realized, aghast. “Is that…necessary?”

“Dominance,” panted Hawke, hauling the thrashing mabari against his chest. “You have....to establish it....It’s the only thing....they respect.”

 _Fereldans._ Fenris sighed again. It seemed to be a habit today.

Hawke lugged his enormous dog like a bale of hay towards the bath. Barnabas swung his head around to Fenris, black eyes wide and pleading.

“Stop shaming yourself.” Hawke grunted and stepped barefoot into the tub. Then, arms and legs wrapped tight around his mutt, sat down in the water. From Barnabas' whimpers, you'd think it was hot magma.

Hawke held out a hand. Fenris picked up the bar of soap from the garden bench and passed it to him, stepping well out of the way of any splashing. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the beast as Hawke began mercilessly scrubbing his ears.

"And you play out this farce often?" asked Fenris.

"Only when he stinks up the bed." Hawke grimaced. "Or rolls in the street after Sandal empties the chamber pots."

Fenris gaped in horror. "You let him sleep in our- in your bed?"

Hawke's mouth twitched at the slip. "If you're not here, and that's rare enough."

"Even so," said Fenris with a delicate sneer, though he felt the tips of his ears redden. "I must insist he sleep in the garden henceforth."

Barnabas issued a growl. It curdled into a whine as Hawke began scouring the fur around his face.

"Keep insisting, he'll get revenge. A nicely coiled surprise in your smalls one morning."

"Pah." Fenris waved the notion away. "Unlike you, I do not leave my clothes strewn about the floor for the servant girl to pick up."

"That so? I seem to recall differently last time we- _there is no soap in your eyes, you big baby._ ” Hawke tightened his legs around the dog and gave him an open-handed swat.

Fenris had a flash of himself between Hawke’s spread thighs, a red hand print on his ass.

It was suddenly very hot in the courtyard.

“There, done!” Hawke released Barnabas. The dog erupted from the tub....and promptly plunged headfirst into the muddy flowerbed. Fenris raised an eyebrow.

Hawke slumped in the brown water covered in dog hair. "It keeps the fleas away."

#

They left Barnabas in the courtyard to dry. Hawke, however, did not seem to mind dripping on the Antivan carpets.

"I'm sorry, love." Hawke tugged his soaked tunic up over his head and tossed it to the floor with a wet slap. "I just hate having Bodahn help me with it. Barney nearly knocked his tooth out last time."

"It was no trouble," said Fenris, though the return to the cool foyer from the white heat of the courtyard had drained the last of his reserves. "So long I don't find any more of his _sheddings_ in-"

"Our bed?" Hawke flashed a shark's grin. "I take it you won't be spending the night here, then."

"It has been a long day, Hawke," said Fenris, making a show of touching his brow. "I have armor in need of mending and a sword in need of...." 

Water dripped down Hawke's chest, darkening the arrow of hair on his stomach that pointed below his belt. The wet fabric of his trousers clung to the outline of his-

"....swording."

Hawke noticed the direction of his gaze. The change of light in his eyes was so subtle, so instantly _hungry_ that Fenris' face burned and he forced himself to turn away.

“Is….is that new?” he said lamely, gesturing to a writing desk against the wall.

“Lady Elegant brought it over. She wants me to refinish it for her husband's anniversary present." Hawke shrugged. "I just varnished it a few days ago. ”

“The um, coat will still be breeding then. Breathing.” Fenris mentally slapped himself.

“I can think of one thing that might help it along,” said Hawke.

“Oh?”

“Me fucking you across it.”

Hawke’s face was impassive, but there was a smug little tug at the corner of his mouth. And a wicked glint in his eye.

"Unless you're too arthritic to stand, in which case I might suggest fucking you on it."

Fenris arched an eyebrow and folded his arms. He gave Hawke a renewed smirk.

#

Ten minutes later, while pounding Hawke across the desk, Fenris admitted the day was not a complete waste.

“Stop flinching.” He yanked back on Hawke's hair. Hawke winced as each thrust shook the legs of the desk. A corked ink bottle rattled from a letter slot and fell with a crack against the quill rest. 

“Maybe if you didn’t ride me _roughshod-_ ”

Hawke bit his fist and Fenris felt a swell of triumph. When they first renewed their relationship last year, Hawke had only taken him. They had both enjoyed it, but it wasn't until one less-than-sober evening when he hauled Hawke's ass in the air that they discovered what they _really_ liked. Hawke was a domineering lover, but Fenris knew the truth of him, and the bitterer truth that part of him resented this loss of control. It was that mixture of raw hunger and helpless anger that made having him like this so satisfying.

“Is that a surrender?” Fenris spread Hawke's cheeks with his thumbs and buried himself to the hilt.

“Not- _ah_ -on your life.”

Fenris closed his eyes and seized Hawke’s hips, driving deep for the center that made Hawke's knees draw up with a feminine gasp, losing himself in the rhythmic slap of his balls against the Champion of Kirkwall's ass. Fenris sped into him, harder and faster, leaning back on his heels so each clap of flesh echoed around the foyer and he could appreciate the sight of his cock pumping in and drawing out needy whimpers. Delicious, electric pain squeezed his groin, at the same moment lightning raced up his spine straight to the tips of his ears-

Fenris' hips spasmed. He quickly lifted Hawke's thigh and groaned his release inside him, pain replaced by unbearable relief, not letting his leg fall as he continued to thrust lazily in aftershock. 

“Oh Maker, Fenris—" Hawke let out a positively whorish moan as Fenris pressed against him and stroked his nipples. "Ohhhhh- _shit shit!”_

Hawke’s head would have broken Fenris’s nose if he hadn’t jumped back at the same moment.

“What?” Fenris shook Hawke’s shoulder, then shook harder at his glazed expression. “What's wrong?”

Fenris looked down. On the desk the bottle of ink rolled back and forth, black oozing from a crack down the writing desk's tilted surface. At the bottom was an already drying, perfect ink stain replica of Hawke’s erection. Cloud of pubic hair included.

Hawke lifted a hand to his mouth. Fenris almost felt a pang of pity.

Almost.

“Perhaps, you could tell her you took it like a true Champion?” offered Fenris.

Hawke’s head whipped around. For a second horror remained crystalized on his face, then dissolved into a defeated smile.

"Fine. But only if you put yours next to it."

Fenris gave him the same sardonic, yet utterly sincere smirk from earlier, and tipped his head to where Barnabas was whining at the courtyard door. Still holding Hawke's gaze, he drifted over and laid a finger on the handle. Hawke's smile evaporated.

A moment later a very muddy, very vengeful dog came tearing across the foyer. Fenris swung the door shut as Hawke made a dive and missed, scrambling after the dog's wagging tail down the kitchen hall.

"Not on your life," Fenris chuckled under his breath, and went upstairs to see about putting fresh sheets on Hawke's bed.


End file.
